The Island
by g.townresident
Summary: When Bones' flatemate, Poncho is found dead in their apartment, Bones picks up and leaves, chasing the rumour Poncho had heard of an island paradise, so top secret most people who heard the rumours discounted it as a story. Can we ever find paradise?


**Author's Note:**

This is my first published fanfic, although I am also working on two others which I cannot finish as yet. But I had an idea I wanted to pursue in this, so I got it started. For this reason, I can't promise my updates will be regular, it's mostly for my own enjoyment until I get the other two out of the way. If anyone IS interested in reading, I'll press myself to write this regardless while still bogged down in the other two. If you are interested, and would like me to press through writing this, please let me know and I'll give it a go. :) I'm also pressed working on a pitch for a TV show that may get me into university, so that's slowing me down more, but that should be done and dusted by mid-June.

This fanfic is a mix between the film "The Beach" and the game "Animal Crossing" (many if not most of my fanfiction will be based around the characters, items, events of Animal Crossing games), though there are deviations, as this was started originally with the view for the future of possibly publishing it on an Animal Crossing website, and The Beach has some elements which I feel would be unsuitable, and elements which I was not inspired by, or would not fit the AC games. The general plot line however is very loosely based on The Beach, while the characters are based on those of AC. For that reason, this is not my most original piece, but something I am enjoying nonetheless, and as it is mostly for my own enjoyment that I write this to start with, I beg you to overlook my lack of originality in The Island.

**Chapter 1**

_It all started with a phone call. It always starts with a phone call._

I had been sitting in a busy metropolitan café, sipping coffee and chewing through a chocolate chip muffin. I had a newspaper spread open on the fifth page over the table I sat at. I had always felt uncomfortable sitting alone in public. I hadn't read a word of the paper, but it gave the illusion that I was busy. Instead I watched the people come and go in the café, and in the street outside the window where I sat. No one gave me a glance. It was as if I were in a bubble, invisible to all. A mother hen bundled three chicks in the door of the café before her, sighing loudly and almost begging the young animals to quit their arguing. She hurried to the counter, laden down with bags and almost losing track of the children as they ran between tables, annoying or amusing those who sat at them. A ragged looking dog passed the window, his face was smeared with dirt and his clothes looked as though they had never been washed. Save for the odd shower of rain, they probably hadn't. He glanced hungrily through the window at the cakes and sandwiches displayed in the counter, before sullenly bowing his head and continuing past slowly, quickly passed by a heavily made up cat who was dressed smartly in a crisp, clean business suit. She wrinkled her nose as she passed, but the dog paid her no attention. I sighed, guessing that he got the look a lot. I was lost in thought about this dog's life, when my cell phone buzzed in my pocket. I quickly pulled it out and flicked it open, as my flat number flashed on the small screen. Poncho shouldn't still be at the flat, I mused, pressing the little green answer button and saying hello.

"Mr Drie?" the voice on the other end was low, gruff, and entirely unknown.

"Yes. Who is this?" I inquired. I sat up straighter, my hand paused at the handle of my coffee cup, worry creeping into my mind. There was a stranger calling me from my flat.

"I'm detective inspector Booker," the voice explained professionally, and I tensed further, waiting for the caller to continue, "We have some bad news for you, sir, could you come back to your flat?"

We had been burgled, I guessed. There wasn't much of value; it was more of an inconvenience. I sighed, "Was there much taken?" I asked, folding my newspaper and dropping a couple of coins on the table as a tip.

"Taken?" the detective replied, caught off guard, "Nothing was taken, but we need to talk to you as a matter of urgency."

"I'm on my way" I said, already half way out the door, newspaper tucked under my arm. Flipping my phone closed, I started towards the flat at a run, thoughts running through my mind.

None of my thoughts came close to what I was about to be told.

"Mr Drie?" a portly dog with a hangdog expression asked as I opened the door to the flat I shared with Poncho. We had both been in the army the last five years, and when we came back, we had little money. The small flat did us fine, we hardly needed it, except to sleep.

"Yes" I said, stepping into the flat towards him.

"Mr Drie," he repeated, "I am very sorry to have to tell you that your flatmate has died."

I looked at him, trying to understand what he had just said. I repeated the sentence over and over in my head, the sounds of other officers milling around my apartment fading to a low buzz. My vision blurred, and then tipped, a sharp pain jolting through my body as I hit the floor. It took me a few moments to recover.

"Poncho?" I whispered.

"Yes sir, I am very sorry." The dog said, looking down at where I slumped against a wall.

Poncho and I had known each other through school; we had served together in the army. He was my closest, and my only friend. I had never really thought about our friendship; it just always existed. But now that he was gone, I realised how important a friend he had been to me.

"How?" I breathed. I wasn't sure I wanted to know, but I felt I had to ask.

"He was killed, sir. The culprit was apprehended by a neighbour in the hall." Booker said matter-of-factly. I nodded silently.

Moments later as I still sat slumped against our – my – white-gray apartment wall, two birds dressed head-to-toe in white passed through the room from Poncho's bedroom, carrying a stretcher between them. A hand, paler than Poncho's had been showed slightly under the white cloth, fur clumped together in places by dried blood. The room was spinning, and I felt like I was about to be sick. I stood and stumbled out of the apartment, leaning my arm against a wall and pressing my head to my arm.

As my mind cleared, one thought only ran through my head. _I have to go._

As the police left the apartment, I re-entered, going straight to the bathroom. I splashed water on my face, trying to snap myself out of the state I was in. I looked up at myself. Bones Drie. I was quite average, a white dog with brown patches; one over my right eye. I had never wished I were more unique. I had the personality to match, I liked blending in, going unnoticed; I could watch the world without the world watching back. I was an average looking dog, with an average personality, and until now, all I had wanted was an average life. But the death of my only friend and flatmate threw everything up into the air. I no longer wanted to go about my life easily, between working in an office to sitting in the café, to coming home to sleep, and repeating it the next day. I wanted something else now, and I was going to get it. Somehow, without knowing what I wanted, or where I would find it, I was going to get it.

I threw some stuff into a small backpack and tip-toed into Poncho's room. Furniture and possessions lay scattered around the room. I pulled open the top drawer in the nightstand beside Poncho's bed. He had no family; it was why he joined the army with me. I took his wallet, knowing he would have left anything he had to me anyway. As I slid the wallet forward and lifted it from the drawer, an old sheet of paper slid forward under it. I lifted it, unfolding it. A map. Poncho had told me of an island paradise, and that he had a map, but that the inhabitants didn't want to advertise. He had never shown me the map, but I knew this was it. I took it with me, folding it back into my pocket.

I left the flat, not bothering to lock the door, and not taking a key. I didn't plan to return. Even if I came back to the city, I wouldn't be able to return to this flat. I walked purposefully to the train station, without really thinking about it. As I walked into the building, I checked the map, noting that there was a large city marked on the edge of the map. Sargen. I looked up at the board and saw the train I wanted and headed towards the ticket window, where a monkey in a porter's outfit sat watching people come and go eagerly. As I approached he smiled. I asked for the ticket, paid the fare, and left without unnecessary chat, though the monkey looked somewhat crestfallen that I wasn't as cheery and chatty as he.

Soon I was settled on a green cushioned two-seat bench on the train, with too much time to think


End file.
